Superstar Squash Women

Brooke_Williams:

Brooke_Williams: The instrumental version of "Edge of Seventeen " plays through the speakers. I make my way down the ramp. Wearing my business attire as I wave to the fans as I climb into the ring. I step through the ropes and take the mic" ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us for the biggest event in Cyber fighting history. Tonight we made history with this PPV. Not only a sold out crowd, but millions watching around the world on PPV. After a thrilling night of action, I can think of no better way to end the night than with a casket match. The two ladies in this match have been locked in a bitter feud this past several week. They finished the month of September as the top two Superstars....Ivvy laying claim to the biggest prize in SSW as the World Champion. However, tonight is not about titles... Tonight only one person will walk out of the arena. The other will be sealed and wheeled out in a casket. Ladies and gentlemen... it's time for the main event " I look up the ramp as the arena lights lower and a casket is rolled down the ramp

Brooke_Williams:

Sybille: Right after Brooke finishes her announcement, the club DJ fades out Brooke’s music, and there’s a smooth transition to my song: “Fear of the Dark” by Iron Maiden. I let the first few bars play, then I stride purposefully toward the ring in the outfit I put together especially for this fight—even though my colors remain the same: BLACK.

Sybille:

Sybille: I run a little faster so that I arrive at the ring just as the coffin is rolled in, opened, and secured next to the ring. Smiling, I jump into the coffin, stand with my legs apart on the black velvet lining, and gaze heroically out at the crowd. I raise my muscular arms in a victory pose and look very determined to win today’s fight against the champion.

Sybille:

Sybille: Then I step onto the edge of the ring, give Brooke a quick nod, pause briefly by the ropes on the outside, and step one foot forward. I arch my back so my long hair hangs down briefly, then I decisively jerk my body forward again and jump over the ropes into the ring without hesitation. I walk to my corner and lean against the ring post with a bored expression, one arm resting on the ropes, and wait for my opponent.

Ivy_Foxx: Today is finally the day—the big day has arrived. The main event of this year’s Halloween special, a coffin match between me and Sybille, the great German Amazon, is scheduled for today. As soon as I arrive at the arena, I see long lines at the ticket booths; the parking lot is packed, and there are people everywhere. My excitement builds; my heart is pounding in staccato beats as I head to my dressing room. Preliminary bouts are already underway in the arena, and cheers from the crowd keep welling up. I’ve dressed up a bit for Halloween today—spruced up my costume accordingly, applied some dark makeup—and am keeping an eye on the fights in the arena on a monitor hanging next to the large mirror on the wall.

Ivy_Foxx:

Ivy_Foxx: Then I see our president, Brooke Williams, in a sexy business suit, bathed in bright spotlights, announcing our battle. Almost at the same time, there’s a knock on my door: “Ivy, come on, it’s time.” Standing behind the curtain, I wait for my entrance music to start, and then the moment arrives. “Seven Nation Army” by the White Stripes blares out, strobe lights dance around my sexy body as I leap out from behind the curtain and sashay toward the ring. Wafts of fog creep thickly across the floor, enveloping my feet and the coffin standing right next to the ring. It feels just like a cemetery, and I wouldn’t be surprised if zombies were to emerge from behind the coffin right now and start dancing to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.”

Ivy_Foxx: A morbid shiver runs through me; a chill runs down my spine, and I can’t take my eyes off the coffin. What must it be like to lie inside it while the lid is closed? As I walk by, my fingertips brush almost tenderly across the glossy, smooth, cold wood. Then I climb the stairs to the ring, bend over deeply, and stick my plump butt high in the air. I slowly make my way through the ropes, lasciviously lick my full lips, and wink at the audience. Waving and swaying my hips, I walk to my corner, completely ignoring you—not a single glance in your direction. I lean against the rope, feigning boredom, and then finally lift my eyes to look at you.

Sybille: I wanted to annoy you and make you angry right away with my bored expression. And now? You walk into the ring without even looking at me. You just ignore me, as if I didn't exist, and head to your corner. I can feel my anger toward you growing instead. My expression changes slightly, and my eyes glare at you wildly and angrily. The fact that you’re ignoring me so completely feels like a slap in the face, and the fact that I’m reacting so angrily to it feels, deep down, almost like a first small defeat in this match. I take a deep breath and tell myself that none of this will matter at all once I’ve put you in that black coffin. I refrain from saying anything to you, instead trying to control my anger, and then slowly step away from the ring. While the rules are briefly announced over the loudspeaker…All in all, they're pretty fast. There are no rules in this match except for one: “The fight is only won when the coffin is closed and one of us is inside it.” A smile crosses my lips at the thought of you lying unconscious in the coffin when I close the lid...... Or maybe you’ll even still be awake and trying to get out again, while I slam the lid down on your head with all my might. I'm forcing myself to push those thoughts aside, because there's still a long way to go. I want to use this match to prove that your title win was just luck and that you're completely overrated.

Ivy_Foxx: I’m paying more attention to the audience than to you; of course, I want to tease you, provoke you—and maybe you’ll let yourself get carried away into doing something rash. But on the outside, you remain completely calm. Too bad—unfortunately, I can’t see inside you to know what’s really going on, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re lying in the coffin right now and I can close the lid over you. Then comes the signal: “Ding… Ding… Ding”—it begins. Slowly and stealthily, I approach you, and we meet in the center of the ring. “Hey, big girl, are you even going to fit in the coffin, or do I have to rip your head off first?” I growl softly at you. Then I grab the back of your neck with my right arm, and my left hand grabs your elbow. I start pushing against you with a lock-up, pressing my feet firmly into the mat, but I can’t move your big, massive body even an inch. “Damn it, this isn’t going to work,” I curse under my breath, tear myself away from you, and spin around my own axis. I try to land a back kick to your stomach, and if it connects and you lean forward, I’ll follow up with a knee strike to your chest. I want to impress you and weaken you right from the start.

Ivy_Foxx:

Sybille: You walk straight toward me, grab hold of me, and try to pull me down. But I unleash my power, hold my ground against your grip and strength, and ram my elbow into your body. The punch hardly has any effect, but you give up and turn away—only to suddenly spin back around and drive your foot into my stomach. You feel my abs on impact, but I still have to lean forward and take your knee. My head flies back, and I’m knocked off my feet by the force of the blow. But I’m still fresh, and even though I shouldn’t take that kind of thing too often, I handle it pretty well this time. And when you try to move away from me, I immediately take a step toward you and slam my forearm into your face twice, then grab your arm, yank you hard toward me, start spinning, and try to pull you past me and into the ropes behind me....

Ivy_Foxx: My combination lands squarely in your stomach and on your chest; I’d actually hoped for a bigger impact, but you’re tall and strong—it’s not for nothing that they call you “Amazon,” a powerful warrior. Surprisingly, you attack me again right away, slamming your forearm hard into my face twice. “Arghh…” I scream; saliva sprays from my mouth, and my head snaps back. I have to cling to you because my knees are a little wobbly from your blows, and yet I still snap at you defiantly and cheekily, “If you want to win, you’re going to have to show a little more, you bitch.” But I absolutely have to break free from you—I need some distance because physically, you’re far superior to me. I try to tear myself away from you, want to push you off, but you grab my arm, hold me tight, and pull me toward you. With my free hand, I grab your hair, pull your head down a little, and try to headbutt you in the nose. At the same time, I swing my knee up to ram it between your legs.

Sybille: Just as I’m about to pull you forward and let you run past me, you suddenly grab my hair and ram your forehead into my nose. There’s a crunch, and I gasp, and before I can react to anything else, you jerk your knee up and ram it between my legs. My eyes widen in horror as I sink to my knees, and my hand automatically reaches down and begins to massage my aching pussy. I’m whimpering and have tears in my eyes. “Fuck, stupid bitch,” I gasp, while the pain briefly leaves me almost numb. Somehow, the bitter defeats at the club—and even in our last fight—come back to my mind, and I feel myself losing some of my self-confidence because of this start.

Ivy_Foxx: My forehead slams into your nose, and a loud crack is clearly audible. Maybe her crooked nose is healing right now, I think to myself as I jerk my right knee up and land it squarely on the target. You scream and sink to your knees in front of me. “Hey, bitch, are you already getting down on your knees in front of me? I kind of expected more from you, but size isn’t everything,” I laugh at you. Then I walk behind you and, while you’re still kneeling in front of me, climb over your shoulders, press your head between my powerful thighs, and clamp it in place. The crowd cheers, probably sensing what’s about to happen in the ring. I raise my arm and nod at them, just like Stephanie Vaquer always does to signal her move. I let myself fall forward and pull you down with me, holding your head firmly between my legs. “Now the devil’s going to kiss you, sweetie!” I shout loudly, so it can be heard clearly even outside the ring, and start lifting my hips to slam your head against the floor over and over. And just like Stephanie, ten times. The crowd counts aloud and enthusiastically: “1....2... 3 -..8....9...10”

Ivy_Foxx:

Sybille: You ruthlessly take advantage of the fact that I’m still preoccupied with my aching pussy and pull me between your thighs. I want to grab them and bend them, but I’m already falling, and my head slams against the floor between your thighs. My muscular arms bounce along with the impact, and I can’t stop the crowd and you from counting to 10. I’ve used this move myself many times, and you’re already using it against me for the second time. If there’s anything positive about this at all, it’s that the pain in my pussy eases up for a while—or maybe it’s just overshadowed by the dizziness. I know I’ll be in big trouble if I don’t manage to buy some time after this, but luckily, it won’t help you if you pin me in today’s match afterward. After the tenth strike, I feel dazed but also ready, because I’m expecting you to go to 10 as usual.

Sybille: In fact, when the count reaches 10, I immediately roll sideways under the rope and out of the ring; I let myself slide down and, still reeling, take a few steps away from the ring. I brush my tousled hair out of my face. My nose is bleeding a little, and I’m breathing heavily as I lean against the barrier to catch my breath for a moment. This isn’t how I imagined my start here would be. Yet my eyes are fixed on you, and I’m ready to dash far away the moment you leave the ring.

Ivy_Foxx: "Eight....nine......ten..." A little out of breath, I spread my legs and let you go, roll away from you, and stand up. The arena is roaring with excitement; the very last bets on who’ll end up in the coffin are still being taken, and I’m in the lead with the bookies. Seemingly dazed, you’re lying on your stomach, holding your head, but suddenly you roll across the ring and slide out. That damn bitch just takes off—I can’t believe it. I follow you to the ropes and look down at you. “You call yourself an Amazon—weren’t they brave warriors? You seem to be the exact opposite; you may be tall, but you’re as weak as a baby.” I consider jumping on you with a “splash,” but it seems too early for that—you’re not that battered yet, and I don’t feel like running into a counterattack from you. “Are you coming back, or do I have to come get you? Or better yet, why don’t you just lie down in the coffin voluntarily if you’re afraid of me?” I taunt you loudly. Then I slide out of the ring and immediately rush back at you so you can’t recover. I try to jump on you with a hurricanrana to throw you to the ground.

Ivy_Foxx:

Sybille: I hear you talking, and every second that passes is a good second for me. As far as I’m concerned, you could give a long speech about me in the ring, and I’d just be able to catch my breath. But unfortunately, you obviously realize yourself that every second you give me works to my advantage, because suddenly you slip out and run toward me. I want to move out of the way quickly, but I’m still too dazed and unsteady to escape you, and then you jump off. You wrap your thighs around my neck and head and use your momentum and weight to yank me off my feet. I’m flung around, and although I manage to roll off starting from my head, my back still slams into the hard floor with full force. I let out a shrill scream and slap the floor twice in pain, while my other arm reaches back toward my back, and it takes me another moment to recover from this attack. At the same time, though, I keep an eye on you and see how you throw your arms up and look out at the audience, and I want to take advantage of that. I try to suppress the pain in my back and get up quickly. I feel a little dizzy from your attacks, and I take two quick steps toward you. I notice that I’m staggering a bit, but I swing my arms forward to hit you hard between the shoulders and slam you onto the steel floor with my momentum and power. It's not a perfect move, but it's all I can manage right now, and I hope you hit me hard so I can maybe gain a few seconds to recover.

Ivy_Foxx: Sliding out of the ring and my Hurricanrana attack are almost a single fluid motion, similar to that of a leopard pouncing on an antelope. My legs wrap around your neck, and with a swing, I bring your large body down. “Yes… just like that…” I shout excitedly, jump back to my feet, and, confident of victory, throw my arms up in the air, basking in the audience’s applause—all the while recklessly turning my back on you. Somehow, you don’t strike me as someone who has much more to give… a fatal mistake. Suddenly, you slam your fists into my back; startled, I cry out, stumble two steps forward, and fall to my knees. This bitch is really attacking me sneakily from behind—I’m going to finish her off. I kneel on the floor and take a deep breath. The blow wasn’t very hard; it was more the element of surprise that threw me off balance a bit. I turn around and sit on my butt; you’re standing right in front of me. “You damn bitch, you’re going to regret this. Up until now, it was all just fun, but now things are really going to get serious,” I hiss angrily as I let myself fall backward and try to kick you between the legs with my legs so you land back on the floor. I stand up, lean over you, and immediately attack again. “I guess that didn’t really work out—your cowardly attack, you cheap whore. Come on, let’s continue in the ring; the stairs are back there. I’ll help you and show you the way.” Then I grab your legs, muster all my strength, and let myself fall backward. I try to throw you over me so you slam into the steel staircase. Exhausted and breathing heavily, I lie there for a moment after the action and then get back up.

Ivy_Foxx:

Sybille: I shove you forward and watch as you fall to your knees. Unfortunately, my shove wasn't strong enough to send you crashing into the stairs, but at least I knocked you to the ground—yet you spin around and sweep me off my feet with your feet. Since I was already worn down from the previous attacks, I react too slowly and end up on the ground again. This fight isn’t going at all the way I imagined it would. I’m on the ground again, and you’re already getting back up. My back hurts. Then you’re talking way too much again… Oh, how I’d love to shut you up right now, but even now I’m hoping you’ll launch into your tirade and give me some time to catch my breath—and once again, I’m wrong. While I’m still struggling with my throbbing back, you grab my legs… “Fuck, no… No....nooooooo,” I scream as you yank me around. My body is hurled upward, and then I see the stairs coming toward me......Then there’s a loud crash, and I slam violently into the top landing of the stairs. I’m thrown back a little, then tip over to the side and land face-down on the floor next to the stairs. For a moment, I just lie there motionless with my arms outstretched.

Ivy_Foxx: I grab your legs, muster all my strength, and throw you against the ring stairs. You fly over me, and shortly afterward I hear a loud clatter behind me. — Hit — Smiling with satisfaction, I stay where I am and turn my head just slightly to look at you. My strength isn’t enough for more right now; I can clearly tell that I can’t keep going at this pace—I’ll never be able to keep it up. I see you lying motionless next to the stairs; that gives me the time I need to catch my breath and pause for a moment. But the coffin is waiting for Sybille—she mustn’t rest too long; she’s still strong and dangerous. Groaning, I roll over, get back up, and walk over to you, grabbing you by the hair to pull you back up. “Come on, darling, let’s keep going—you can rest once you’re in the coffin. It’s quiet and dark in there; you’ll like it.” As I keep talking you into it, I pull your head up and try to slam it against the stairs. Then I yank you away and shove you against the ring, grab your panties, and pull them way up with a wedgie so they dig deep into your pussy and your ass. I lift you up like that and roll you back into the ring. My gaze briefly wanders to the coffin, which stands imposing and somewhat intimidating next to the ring. I find it hard to tear my eyes away from the coffin, but then I look back at you and follow you into the ring.

Sybille: I'm lying limp and stretched out on the floor, and the mere thought of moving feels so wrong. I just want to stay lying here and have my peace. I hear you talking again and I hate you for what you’re doing to me. I started out so determined today; I was so sure I could control you, and now things are clearly going your way. I can’t believe how, step by step, you’re asserting your dominance and controlling me. But I have to move, I have to get up, I have to find my way back into this fight. I groan and pull my arms in, just as you yank me to my feet. I’m hanging there, almost powerless in your grip, but when you slam me onto the stairs, I get my arms in the way—it’s not enough to stop the impact, but I can slow it down a bit. Then you grab me and lift me into the ring. That must be costing you strength again, too. Where does she get this strength? I wonder. Then you roll me into the ring, and I get down on all fours and crawl to the far side of the ring, away from you. I grab the ropes and pull myself up, gasping for breath. I keep glancing over my shoulder so I can keep an eye on you and make sure you can’t surprise me with a nasty attack.

Sybille: Blood is running from my nose, which took a real beating when I hit the stairs; my forehead is already starting to swell from the impact, and my skull is throbbing violently as I struggle to get to my feet, feeling sluggish and tired, holding onto the rope.

Ivy_Foxx: You roll back into the ring, lie there for a moment, and crawl over to the rope to pull yourself up. Shortly after, I follow you, but head to the opposite side; still panting heavily, I lean against the rope. Damn, it’s going better than I expected, but it’s really wearing me out—I’ve got to end this soon, one way or another. We stare at each other—almost like in the Western *High Noon*—our eyes flashing with fury; the only things missing are the Colts and the suspenseful music. I see you clinging to the rope, bloodied and a little battered; you’ve really taken a beating, and it’s not over yet. The big, strong Amazon isn’t as strong as everyone always says, after all. Behind you, I see the open coffin gleaming; it seems to be waiting invitingly, its lid wide open like a ravenous maw, greedily waiting to devour its victim. “Come on, then,” I shout to myself, throw myself against the rope to gain momentum, and run toward you. I leap toward you feet-first and try to kick you in the chest with a drop kick. I hope and pray that my kick will throw you out of the ring again and that, ideally, you’ll fall into the coffin on your own. If that works, I’ll quickly jump in after you and close the lid. No more games—lid shut, and that’s it.

Sybille: I’m climbing up the ropes and see that you’ve taken up a position across from me. My legs feel weak; my left arm is still holding onto the rope to steady myself. Your actions have completely drained me, and as I stand there, every muscle feels heavy and sluggish. The thought of rushing toward you is simply unimaginable right now. I stand there and wait, staring at you and hoping—no matter what you do—that I’ll be able to dodge fast enough. And then you charge toward me, using the rope to gain even more speed. I try to figure out which direction I should move in. But before I can react or make a decision, your feet slam into my body. You hit me just above my chest—and thus also above the top rope. I cry out, get rammed into the rope, and your boots press into my cleavage and shoulders, pushing me over the rope. I lose my balance. I do a sort of somersault—which would probably look pretty clumsy to the audience—and spin around as I fly over the rope, then crash into the coffin back-first.

Sybille: Maybe I was just standing in a weird position... Maybe you calculated the angle exactly... Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but my head and body fit perfectly in the coffin, and even my right leg is already positioned just as it should be. Only my left leg hits the inside of the coffin wall with the inside of my knee, and my foot is sticking out. Then you come right behind me, jump out of the room, and try to close the coffin. You grab my foot, and I know that’s probably my last possibility to react before you close that casket. I jerk my foot back just as you reach for it and kick you in the face with the sole of my boot.

Ivy_Foxx: I rush forward, realizing that you’re still pretty weak and have to hold onto the rope. Since you’re pretty tall, you tower over the rope by quite a bit, and there’s a chance that if I hit you as high up as possible, I could knock you over the rope. But I’m not thinking about any of that at all in that moment—I, too, am worn out by this intense fight and just want to put you in your grave, no matter what. I fly toward you with as much momentum as possible and hit you above your chest, fall back, and immediately roll backward, then jump back to my feet so I can react to any counterattack from you. I hear you scream loudly, and when I look in your direction, you’ve vanished. That damn bitch—has she run off again? I can’t believe it, I curse under my breath. The spectators are going wild, screaming and clapping—something must have happened, but what? I walk toward the spot where I hit you, cautiously, waiting to see what’s there, not sure what to expect. But the loud cheering of the crowd, which is still washing over me, gives me hope....could she really have...?...... Leaning against the rope, I look down, and sure enough—I can hardly believe my luck—I see you lying in the coffin. “Yeah, bitch, this is where your journey ends. Just stay there; I’m coming for you, and then you’ll be through with it.” The sight of you lying in that coffin instantly gives me new energy; I feel so invincible right now I could chew through barbed wire.

Ivy_Foxx:

Ivy_Foxx: With elegance and a touch of nonchalance, I slide out of the ring, raise my arms in triumph, and let the crowd cheer me on. “Hey, my sweet Halloween corpse, now lie still so I don’t have to hurt you anymore, okay?” I’m about to slam the lid shut, but your left foot is still hanging over the edge of the coffin. I lean deeply over you, reaching for your foot to push it back into the coffin. Suddenly, completely out of the blue and as fast as a snake ready to sink its fangs into my flesh, you pull your foot back and brutally stomp the sole of your boot into my face. “Ahrgg…” I yelp in shock and surprise; my head flies back, and a fountain of saliva shoots out of my mouth in a high arc. Staggering, I stumble backward; everything spins before my eyes, everything goes black, and I fall to the ground. I lie there for a moment and come to, rolling onto my side with a groan and crawling away from the coffin, dazed, to gain some distance and regain my composure.

Sybille: My kick was more of a reflex than a deliberate move. But apparently, at least that one move worked. The crowd is shocked when, after your dominant performance so far, you go down from that hit. I don't even notice it myself. I just see you stagger backward and disappear from my field of vision. "Well,” I think to myself as I lie in the coffin and take a deep breath. My foot is still sticking out so you can't just close the coffin. I expect to see your grin again any moment now and feel you against my leg. She won’t give me a break and will see it through to the end. But even after a few seconds, you still haven’t surfaced. I take a deep breath and gather my strength, then I grab the edge of the coffin, pull myself up, and look over the edge. Just as you, too, begin to sit up again .I realize that I now have a chance to get back into the fight, maybe even win, or at least not make such a pathetic spectacle of myself as I have been all this time. I grab hold of the coffin’s towering lid and pull myself to my feet, so that I’m now standing upright inside the coffin, and since it’s elevated, I’m looking down at you from above.

Sybille: I see you stand up and catch your gaze as it meets mine, and then I leap forward. I leap toward you, knees and shins first, trying to ram them into your face as you face me, grab your hair, let myself fall, and sweep you along with me in a wild codebreaker.

Sybille: https://m.youtube.com/shorts/ivG_XwxRH5E

Ivy_Foxx: Shaking my head in disbelief, I slowly get down on all fours. My long hair drags across the floor as I crawl away, and I look like a beaten-up dog that’s been chased away. That stupid bitch really caught me when I least expected it and almost knocked me out—that was a close call. I turn my head toward you, look at the coffin, but your foot is still dangling out of it—other than that, there’s no sign of you. Unfortunately, there’s no way I can attack you now—your kick made sure of that. My chin hurts and blood is dripping from my nose; I could cry with rage at how careless I’ve been, but I won’t underestimate you again. Even the crowd has noticeably quieted down—they didn’t expect this turn of events either. Slowly, I get to my feet, wanting to get back in the ring and wait for you there; that’ll also give me more time to recover. I look back at you once more, searching, and am startled to see you now standing upright in the coffin. “Ohh shit… no…” I cry out as you leap toward me. Defensively, I raise my arms—too late. You grab my head, pull me toward you, let yourself fall backward, and drag me down with you. Then you pull your knees up and ram them into my chest and face. “Ahhhhhhhh……” I scream as I fall unchecked onto your knees; it sends me flying backward in a high arc, and I roll across the floor, lying on my stomach, whimpering. I can’t believe what just happened; I can’t think straight anyway after those hard blows. I hold my aching head and try to get up; a long string of saliva hangs from my mouth.

Sybille: Nothing gets me going more than success, and somehow those two successful moves are making my adrenaline rush through my veins. I feel a surge of new energy as I watch you hit the ground and look dazed. The thought that the fight isn't over for me yet—that I've just pulled off a great comeback—gives me a boost. “You were too cocky and talked too much, Ivy,” I hiss as I see you trying to push yourself up onto all fours, and I take a quick step forward and stomp my boot between your shoulder blades. I’ll slam you hard to the ground again, and then—after I’ve run over you and raised my arms to get the crowd to cheer—I’ll turn back toward you. I’ll see that you’re back on all fours, and then I’ll grab you by the hair and the waistband of your pants. I’ll pull you up, but I’ll also give you a boost, pulling you along with me as you lean forward and giving you plenty of momentum before I let go and let the momentum send you crashing into the side of the coffin.

Ivy_Foxx: Your Code Breaker has knocked me to the ground again; dazed, I stay where I am, breathing heavily and clutching my head as I whimper. Groaning, I pull myself back up; my hair hangs in my face, blocking my view so I can’t see you. But I can hear you—I can actually feel your heavy boots approaching me. I quickly brush my hair out of my face, but it’s too late—before I can react, you kick me between the shoulders and slam me back down onto the hard floor. Screaming, I curl up; my breasts are squashed flat against the floor, and my face slams down too. Wailing, I flail my arms and legs; you climb on top of me, using me like a cheap doormat. Gasping, I squirm beneath you, struggling for air. You turn toward the audience, raise your arms, and bask in the applause they shower on you, then turn back to me. You step over me, and I get back on all fours and try to stand up. Damn, damn, damn, I curse quietly to myself; I have to finally get back into the fight—it simply can’t go on like this. I haven’t even finished my thoughts when you’re already on top of me again, and all hell breaks loose. You grab my hair and my panties, lift me up slightly, and drag me along with you. “No… Sybille… please… don’t…” I scream loudly, knowing there’s no mercy for me. With your unbridled strength, you gather momentum and hurl me against the coffin. “Ahrrrrggg…” I sail toward it like a spear, flying through the air headfirst and losing my footing. My head slams hard against the solid oak; there’s a dull thud, as if an overripe melon were falling to the ground and bursting open. With a loud sigh, I slap down onto my stomach again, roll my eyes, and lie there drooling in front of the coffin.

Sybille: I take a deep breath as you crash into the coffin, can’t get your hands out, hit your head against it, and then go down. I feel like I can make history right now, send the champ to the coffin, and win this event. But I don’t want to make the same mistake you did—especially since I have to lift you up first before I can put you in the coffin. I bite my lower lip and look down at your dazed body. Then I walk over to you. Standing to the side of you, I grab your hair again and pull you up—first onto all fours, then fully to your feet. As I pull you up, I land two quick jabs to your stomach with my free hand to keep you occupied and prevent you from attacking me. Then I walk with you to the edge of the ring and slam your head against the ring edge again before pushing you up with my upper body, grabbing your legs, and lifting you onto the ring edge. Then I'll go to the head of the bed and climb up onto the ring there, too, and grab your hair again; I'll pull you up until you're back on all fours. I can see that you're still very dazed, and I cast a triumphant glance around the room. The coffin is just below us; we're roughly at the spot from which I fell into it a few seconds ago, as I pull your head between my legs and clamp it in place.

Ivy_Foxx: My head slams hard against the coffin, flashes of light dance before my eyes, and I collapse like a wet sponge, twitching only weakly, half-unconscious. My skull is throbbing and pounding; it feels as if it were stuck in a beehive... Stings... Tingling... Pain. You just won’t let up, won’t grant me even the slightest respite. Again you yank hard on my hair, so hard that my scalp tightens as if it’s about to tear; the pain brings tears to my eyes, and I howl in despair and misery. Gasping from the effort yourself, you finally manage to get me on my feet; I stagger around, disoriented, my arms swinging limply like a rag doll’s—to you, I’m nothing more than a willing toy. You punch me in the stomach twice, making me vomit again. I moan pitifully, whimpering, gasping for air with a soft whistling sound. If you weren’t holding me, I’d have collapsed like a Swiss Army knife. But instead, you drag me to the ring and slam my head against the edge once more. “Urggg…” My eyes roll back, tilting away so that only the whites are visible, flickering. I’ve reached a threshold where taking the next step means falling into a deep unconsciousness. You drag my limp, defenseless body into the ring and set me down on the edge outside the ropes. You stand in front of me, pull me up by whatever you can grab—my hair, of course, is the obvious choice. Whimpering and drooling, I have to endure it all; the many blows to the head have completely knocked me out, and I’m no longer capable of putting up a fight. Then you press my head between your legs, pinning it there, and all I can do is keep enduring it and wait to see what happens to me next.

Sybille: You look so apathetic right now, so limp, so weak, so spent, as you’re wedged between my legs. Your arms are hanging limply down, and right now you don’t seem like you’ll find the strength to fight back. So I don’t want to take any chances. My heart is pounding, and I’m gasping for breath from the exertion of this fight. I feel limp myself, even though the adrenaline is still kicking in, but I know I have to end it now—who knows what might happen otherwise. I wrap my arms around your hips to lift you up and tense my muscles. You feel my arms pressing against your body, and you can feel my strong muscles, but I can barely lift you. I feel like I don't have the strength for this move...... I’m standing there, bent over you, and once again… I take a deep breath and put all the power I have left into this movement, straining, pulling, and screaming out my tension as I yank you off the ground. I have to take a step back, almost missing the edge of the ring in the process and nearly slipping—but only nearly. Then I’m standing steady. You’re hanging upside down in front of me, and I cast another appraising glance at the coffin. I take one more small step to get into the perfect position, and then I drop to my knees to slam you into the ring floor with a piledriver—and at the same time as the impact, give your body a little shove. I hope to hit you so hard that your battered body tumbles off the edge of the ring and, ideally, after that violent impact with the floor, falls down right into the casket.

Ivy_Foxx: I’m kneeling in front of you, completely worn out and exhausted, but you’re not much better off—you, too, have taken quite a beating and are no longer at full strength. You stumble and can barely hold on to the rope to keep from falling; you’re breathing heavily. The whole time, my head is wedged between your legs without me moving, so you wonder if I’m even conscious anymore, but whatever—you’d rather play it safe. The spectators grow increasingly quiet; they know the grand finale is imminent and the coffin will soon be closed—only one will leave the arena standing. Then you lean down toward me, wrap your arms around my hips to pull me up, but you have to set down again. You take a deep breath and try again. Your hands grip me tighter, and with a loud cry—like a weightlifter at the Olympics—you haul my body up with one last burst of strength. My feet point toward the gym ceiling; my hair brushes gently against the mat. I whimper softly—barely audible—as your thighs choke off the last bit of air I need to scream. You hold me in this humbling position for another moment, clearly visible to everyone. You look at the coffin and adjust our position slightly. Your plan is to let me fall right into the coffin—why go to more trouble than necessary? You look down again and then grin contentedly, jump up slightly, and drop to your knees. My head slams onto the mat with force; I see stars, flashes of light, hear birds chirping, and suddenly lose consciousness. As if someone had pulled the plug on me, my body goes limp and I slump down. As I fall, you give me a gentle nudge, and I fall right into the coffin, exactly as you planned. You look down at me with satisfaction; one arm and one leg are still sticking out, but I’m lying perfectly. Unconscious and defeated.

Ivy_Foxx:

Sybille: I’m standing at the edge of the ring and taking a deep breath. So far, so good—that’s exactly where I wanted you to be. I hold onto the rope and just stand there for a moment, enjoying the sight of your body in the coffin. Many in the audience are surely wondering why I’m not closing the lid right away, but I need this moment not only to enjoy the sight of you, but also to be able to carry on after this feat of strength. Then I let myself slide down from the edge of the ring, and I know we’ve already had this exact same scene today—only with the roles reversed. I’m more careful than you; I approach the cage from the side and position myself more or less at shoulder height when I grab your arm and leg and push you into the wooden box. I want to avoid taking a hard kick from you. “Sleep well, Ivy,” I say, then reach up to grab the lid and pull it down.

Sybille:

Ivy_Foxx: I fall into the coffin and lie there unconscious. From above, you look down at me from the ring, still a little suspicious. Is she really knocked out, or is she trying to trick me? But you see no movement in me, and somehow I look so peaceful. You step out of the ring, approach the coffin from the side—you’re not as foolish as I was. Even if I’m just pretending to be unconscious, you leave me so little room to launch a dangerous attack. But your fears are all unfounded; I’m not moving anymore. You push my leg and arm inside, fold my hands, and slowly close the lid. “She’s ready and can be buried,” you call out loudly, raising your arms; cheers erupt as the coffin is carried outside.

Ivy_Foxx:

Ivy_Foxx:

Sybille: I close the coffin and click the latches securely into place. Now you can wake up, thrash about, or scream, kick—whatever you want—it’s over. Relieved, I rest my arms on the coffin and lean on it for a moment. I wait until my breathing has calmed down a bit, then I triumphantly raise my arms and savor the crowd’s cheers. I walk back to the ring, to your corner… That's where your championship belt is—the one you currently hold. I'll take it. Then I'll walk over to the coffin and place it on top. After that, I'll slowly walk out of the arena, taking my time as I savor the cheers and, above all, the feeling that—after so many losses - most recently - against you—I was finally able to win this event today.

Sybille: END